Junk
by bookEnd
Summary: A pointless oneshot involving junk.


A/N: I wrote this instead of revising for Chemistry, so I make no guarantees.

Disclaimer: If I owned Doctor Who, I wouldn't need to do Chemistry. I wouldn't need to do any GCSE's at all. As I had to do my Chemistry exam today and have History tomorrow, obviously I don't own them.

Rose wanders down the corridor to her room. She's had a lovely shower, managed to get all that purple gunge off, and now she wants nothing more than to flop across her comfortable bed and sleep for eight hours straight. Her head is comfortably fuzzy.

She stops outside her door and gives it a push. Nothing happens. She yawns widely. The Tardis likes to swap the hinges on the doors around. She pulls it open.

She only dimly registers the teetering wall of junk before it crashes down on top of her.

That wakes her up. Rather painfully.

"Rose! Rose!" The Doctor wanders through the corridors of the Tardis towards her room. Yes, it has only been a couple of hours and yes, Rose had promised dire retribution if he interrupted her beauty sleep but he's bored. He doesn't like being bored, it's- well, boring!

He turns the corner and finds his way blocked by a massive pile of junk, spilling out of Rose's room.

"I know she has a lot of stuff, but this is ridiculous." Catching sight of a waving hand sticking out from between a genuine Tudor football and a retro 34th century lampshade, he amends "Perhaps it isn't all hers." Raising his voice, he calls sweetly "Oh, Rosie Rosebud!"

Obviously, the Doctor has messed around with the Tardis and this, for some reason, has caused the Tardis to stick lots of junk in her room. Hopefully, she hasn't ruined something by allowing the junk into the corridor. Tough if she has. She didn't ask to be buried under a few centuries worth of junk.

She's been lying there for quite a time, it seems. There's something sticking in her back- actually there are quite a lot of uncomfortably angular objects sticking in her back- and she's lost all feeling in her legs. The air is getting slightly warm and stale; the only vent being a small gap between something round that feels like a balloon and something very strangely shaped that has soft spikes over it. She's trying to widen the gap with the hand that isn't pinned under something heavy when she hears the footsteps and waves that hand urgently. If the Doctor will help her out, she might not rip his head off in payment for the last hour or two.

"Oh, Rosie Rosebud!"

Right. When she gets out, she is going to rip him limb from limb slowly and laugh while she does it. He wouldn't say that within her hearing if she wasn't trapped.

There is some shifting and scraping from above her, and gradually her head and shoulders are excavated.

She blinks as the light hits her eyes and suddenly the Doctor's face fills her field of vision.

"Alright in there?"

She takes a deep breath, ready to utter some caustic comment but it is lost to posterity as she loses herself in those brown eyes.

"Rose?"

She realises that she's staring up at him with her mouth open.

"Yeah, sure I'm fine." She somehow manages to croak.

"I think it might be constricting your chest somewhat, you sound strange. Hold on a mo- and take deep breaths." He disappears and some weight is shifted off her body. Deep breaths however, are out of the question. Her breath is catching in her throat. When she rips him apart, she'll have to have him wear a blindfold. Otherwise, he'll just give her the puppy eyes and she'll melt into a gooey puddle, completely incapable of tearing his arms off and beating him round the head with the soggy end.

A Venusian cacti, an antique silver candlestick, a cardboard box containing god-knows-what. He barely notes them as he concentrates his mind on reaching for one object, putting it on the floor; and not, most definitely not, letting his eyes linger on her exposed stomach where her vest top has ridden up or admiring the soft curve of her chest as she breathes- damn. Too late.

The first time she dismisses it as an accident. The second time she allows herself to hope. The third time goes unnoticed as she is fully occupied.

The Doctor allows his hand to skim across Rose's skin once more. His last coherent thought for a while is that he should really realign the inter-dimensional stabilisers more often.

A/N: Okay, this is NOT my best work. Any ideas on how to improve it gratefully accepted.


End file.
